


and in spite of all i should've done

by hyperandrogenism



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autism, Autistic Springer, Autistic Tarantulas, Cuddling & Snuggling, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Medical, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28920711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperandrogenism/pseuds/hyperandrogenism
Summary: "Springer wrings his servos and stares at Tarantulas, sleeping in the medberth. His fur looks so soft. Springer has never felt fur before. He's felt hair, only Verity's in passing, but never fur. He wants to touch it, but he's scared that if he does Tarantulas will wake up and tell him to go away or it'll turn out Overlord put him in another coma and this is just a dream or something even worse. So he doesn't. He just stares, and rocks a little in the uncomfortable medbay chair."
Relationships: Springer & Tarantulas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i thought of autistic springer stimming with tarantulas's fur and could not help myself lmao
> 
> pretend um. pretend mayhem has regular medbays and also tarantulas didnt die lmao
> 
> (version without tarantulas's dialogue being bold/italics in the second chapter for accessibility)

Springer wrings his servos and stares at Tarantulas, sleeping in the medberth. His fur looks so soft. Springer has never felt fur before. He's felt hair, only Verity's in passing, but never fur. He wants to touch it, but he's scared that if he does Tarantulas will wake up and tell him to go away or it'll turn out Overlord put him in another coma and this is just a dream or something even worse. So he doesn't. He just stares, and rocks a little in the uncomfortable medbay chair.

He sits and stares for what feels like hours. Springer doesn't really know how long it is, but it feels like hours before Tarantulas's optics crack open. Springer still doesn't move.

" **_Springer?_ ** " Tarantulas's voice is rough and tentative, even in his strange timbre, like he's just as scared that Springer is a mirage as Springer is that he is.

"It's me," Springer answers, just as careful.

" **_It's really... you._ ** " Tarantulas sighs. “ **_It’s you._ ** ”

“It’s me,” Springer repeats, voice so quiet that Tarantulas can barely hear it.

They fall back into silence. Springer tugs on his fingers in order from his thumb to his pinkie, then does the other servo, over and over. He can’t stop thinking about that fur, how soft it would feel, how warm it would be. The only time he’s touched Tarantulas was carrying him out of the cave, begging him not to die, and he didn’t have the processor space to really notice how it felt.

After a few minutes the urge gets too strong. Springer reaches out before Tarantulas can tell him not to and gently touches one of his many legs, tugging it a little closer so he can tentatively wrap his servo around it. His optics go wide and Tarantulas goes completely still. It is soft and so thick, just as soft as it looks, and Springer rocks himself quicker as he pets the fur.

Tarantulas doesn't say anything. Springer thinks he can see his face forming into the equivalent of a little smile.

" **_I made you like me,_ ** " Tarantulas says quietly.

Springer nods and keeps petting Tarantulas's leg. He knows what Tarantulas means. He's always known he's _ different _ , not like other mechs, even the ones with common things like PTSD and processor injuries. No one ever had a name for it, but Kup had taught him that it was okay, a normal variation of their existence.

" **_I didn't mean to,_ ** " Tarantulas continues, " **_I didn't know_ ** **I** **_was different, not then. But I made you in my image. You're like me._ ** "

"I'm like you," Springer repeats. He looks up then, not making optic contact but getting close. "You're really… you really made me. I'm really like you."

Tarantulas reaches out, hovering his paw near Springer's helm. Asking for permission. Springer nods and looks back down, leaning towards Tarantulas's paw and letting it brush the line of his cheek and jaw. He closes his optics and sighs. " **_We could be together. I could be your creator, and you could be my creation. I could be a part of your life,_ ** " Tarantulas offers. Springer squeezes his leg. " **_I know you've been through so much. I watched you, I did my research. I want to be part of your life, Ostaros._ ** "

Anyone else calling him that, that name that isn't his but  _ was _ his at the same time, would make Springer jerk away and shake and curl up in a ball. But something about Tarantulas saying it is comforting. He sags a little in his chair and wishes Kup were here to hold him.

That gives Springer an idea. He perks up a little, and lets go of Tarantulas's leg and nudges his paw away, but before Tarantulas can be disappointed Springer is climbing into the berth with him. It's a horribly awkward fit—they'd already had to push two berths together to make room for Tarantulas's frame, and Springer is no minibot or waif of a satellite—but they make it work. Tarantulas wraps his arms around him and hugs him tight. The softness of his fur surrounding Springer is a little overstimulating, but he pushes it aside in favor of finally being held by  _ his creator  _ after so many years of feeling something missing in his spark.

He isn't a mech who cries, but in this moment Springer is so tempted. His optics burn. He hides his face against Tarantulas's chest, breathing in deep to lock the warm, dusty smell in his spark.

" **_Kup and Impactor, they did a good job with you. You're a good young mech,_ ** " Tarantulas says, petting Springer's helm, " **_I'm so proud of you._ ** "

Springer hasn't heard that, that he's worthy of being proud of, in years. Not since Kup had a few nights before they went into the hell that was Garrus 9. He remembers it clearly, and that makes his chest ache even more. He bunches his fist in Tarantulas's fur. If it hurts, Tarantulas doesn't show it.

" **_I made you what I couldn't be, you know._ ** " Tarantulas nuzzles against the top of Springer's helm. " **_Brave and strong and so smart. I love you so much._ ** "

Springer doesn't respond. He doesn't  _ feel _ brave. Everyone says he is, every mech he meets, but he hasn't felt anything other than terrified in so long. But here, tucked in with his real creator, warm and comfortable and  _ safe _ , he can pretend that he is for a little while.


	2. accessible version

Springer wrings his servos and stares at Tarantulas, sleeping in the medberth. His fur looks so soft. Springer has never felt fur before. He's felt hair, only Verity's in passing, but never fur. He wants to touch it, but he's scared that if he does Tarantulas will wake up and tell him to go away or it'll turn out Overlord put him in another coma and this is just a dream or something even worse. So he doesn't. He just stares, and rocks a little in the uncomfortable medbay chair.

He sits and stares for what feels like hours. Springer doesn't really know how long it is, but it feels like hours before Tarantulas's optics crack open. Springer still doesn't move.

"Springer?" Tarantulas's voice is rough and tentative, even in his strange timbre, like he's just as scared that Springer is a mirage as Springer is that he is.

"It's me," Springer answers, just as careful.

"It's really... you." Tarantulas sighs. “It’s you.”

“It’s me,” Springer repeats, voice so quiet that Tarantulas can barely hear it.

They fall back into silence. Springer tugs on his fingers in order from his thumb to his pinkie, then does the other servo, over and over. He can’t stop thinking about that fur, how soft it would feel, how warm it would be. The only time he’s touched Tarantulas was carrying him out of the cave, begging him not to die, and he didn’t have the processor space to really notice how it felt.

After a few minutes the urge gets too strong. Springer reaches out before Tarantulas can tell him not to and gently touches one of his many legs, tugging it a little closer so he can tentatively wrap his servo around it. His optics go wide and Tarantulas goes completely still. It is soft and so thick, just as soft as it looks, and Springer rocks himself quicker as he pets the fur.

Tarantulas doesn't say anything. Springer thinks he can see his face forming into the equivalent of a little smile.

"I made you like me," Tarantulas says quietly.

Springer nods and keeps petting Tarantulas's leg. He knows what Tarantulas means. He's always known he's _ different _ , not like other mechs, even the ones with common things like PTSD and processor injuries. No one ever had a name for it, but Kup had taught him that it was okay, a normal variation of their existence.

"I didn't mean to," Tarantulas continues, "I didn't know  _ I _ was different, not then. But I made you in my image. You're like me."

"I'm like you," Springer repeats. He looks up then, not making optic contact but getting close. "You're really… you really made me. I'm really like you."

Tarantulas reaches out, hovering his paw near Springer's helm. Asking for permission. Springer nods and looks back down, leaning towards Tarantulas's paw and letting it brush the line of his cheek and jaw. He closes his optics and sighs. "We could be together. I could be your creator, and you could be my creation. I could be a part of your life," Tarantulas offers. Springer squeezes his leg. "I know you've been through so much. I watched you, I did my research. I want to be part of your life, Ostaros."

Anyone else calling him that, that name that isn't his but  _ was _ his at the same time, would make Springer jerk away and shake and curl up in a ball. But something about Tarantulas saying it is comforting. He sags a little in his chair and wishes Kup were here to hold him.

That gives Springer an idea. He perks up a little, and lets go of Tarantulas's leg and nudges his paw away, but before Tarantulas can be disappointed Springer is climbing into the berth with him. It's a horribly awkward fit—they'd already had to push two berths together to make room for Tarantulas's frame, and Springer is no minibot or waif of a satellite—but they make it work. Tarantulas wraps his arms around him and hugs him tight. The softness of his fur surrounding Springer is a little overstimulating, but he pushes it aside in favor of finally being held by  _ his creator  _ after so many years of feeling something missing in his spark.

He isn't a mech who cries, but in this moment Springer is so tempted. His optics burn. He hides his face against Tarantulas's chest, breathing in deep to lock the warm, dusty smell in his spark.

"Kup and Impactor, they did a good job with you. You're a good young mech," Tarantulas says, petting Springer's helm, "I'm so proud of you."

Springer hasn't heard that, that he's worthy of being proud of, in years. Not since Kup had a few nights before they went into the hell that was Garrus 9. He remembers it clearly, and that makes his chest ache even more. He bunches his fist in Tarantulas's fur. If it hurts, Tarantulas doesn't show it.

"I made you what I couldn't be, you know." Tarantulas nuzzles against the top of Springer's helm. "Brave and strong and so smart. I love you so much."

Springer doesn't respond. He doesn't  _ feel _ brave. Everyone says he is, every mech he meets, but he hasn't felt anything other than terrified in so long. But here, tucked in with his real creator, warm and comfortable and  _ safe _ , he can pretend that he is for a little while.

**Author's Note:**

> harass me on tumblr [@first-and-always](https://first-and-always.tumblr.com/)


End file.
